


the long shot

by bleepblorp



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Break Up, F/F, F/M, Gen, Shepard Has a Slutty Time on Illium, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleepblorp/pseuds/bleepblorp
Summary: Shepard is on the rebound on Illium. Miranda and Garrus are just along for the ride.
Relationships: Background Shepard/Others, Past Liara T'Soni/Shepard, Unrequited Garrus Vakarian/Shepard, other potential relationships hinted at
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	the long shot

**Author's Note:**

> This is self indulgent as shit

“Commander,” Lawson said, as they disembarked.

The way Shepard watched Lawson was familiar, the looking without looking. It was the same way her gaze would briefly skate over Alenko’s lean flank before snapping forward with military precision during the early days aboard the Normandy.

It was the look of contained, barely-there interest, the look of someone who would never try anything with anyone under her command.

Of course, all those high minded ethics had gone out the window as soon as she met Liara.

But Shepard wasn’t looking now, even as Lawson exited before her, even with the sway of her hips that tended to draw even the most uninterested eye.

Shepard was looking at the Nos Astra skyline, her brow furrowed in thought.

“Commander,” Lawson repeated and Shepard’s eyes focused, sharpened. “Where do you want to start?”

“We start with Liara,” she said and her voice didn’t even waver when she said the name. “This is her turf. She can give us the lay of the land.”

* * *

The closer they got to Liara’s office, the tenser Shepard’s shoulders got.

Garrus thought that one wrong move might snap her in half. Or start a brawl. A tense Shepard, usually so unflappable and adaptable, was an unpredictable thing.

He thought about Alenko’s harsh words on Horizon and figured she had the right to a little apprehension.

Lawson had been oddly quiet. Usually this walk would have been her time to brush everybody up on mission plans and schematics, almost pathologically prepared for any outcome, but she must have picked up on Shepard’s mood and was wisely silent.

Garrus couldn’t help clenching his own jaw in sympathy, his mandibles pulled tightly in.

The way Shepard stared at the door in front of them was the same way he’d seen her stare down a thresher maw: spine straight, jaw stubborn, eyes defiant and frozen in panic.

The door, unlike the thresher maw, gave in without a fight and opened, the soft swish of it almost making him jump.

Liara, seated at the desk, looked up.

A smile broke out across her face, her eyes, though ringed with sleepless nights and two years’ worth of grief, went bright with joy.

Shepard almost vaulted over the desk in her rush, the reach of her arms instinctive as she pulled Liara against her, any hint of her earlier hesitation gone.

Garrus thought something may have snapped in his neck with how fast he turned away.

Miranda made to step into the room, but Garrus reached out a hand to stop her, and the door closed on the couple, framed by the orange light of the Illium horizon.

She gave a pointed look at his hand on her arm and he dutifully removed it, raising both in surrender. “Just. Give them a minute.”

She looked at him with an expression that said she saw everything going on in his head and was thoroughly unimpressed. He felt the pressure of it like a shotgun shell against his chest plate at close range and almost stepped back.

She turned her piercing gaze to the door in front of them, and Garrus could almost believe she was indeed able to see right through it.

She did not argue, however, simply cocked and hip and crossed her arms. “Fine. One minute.”

He nodded, grateful that Shepard finally got the reunion she deserved and grateful that he would not have to bear witness.

* * *

Judging by Shepard’s stony silence as she made a beeline for the nearest club and the, frankly, terrifying speed with which she had downed the first two drinks, the reunion had not gone well.

“What is she doing?” Lawson asked, tone brusque. “The collectors’ timetable doesn’t exactly allow for a rebound.”

And now Garrus, painfully sober, was tasked with keeping Shepard’s Cerberus keeper off her back while she processed a broken heart. And an unholy amount of ethanol.

“She’ll shake it off,” Garrus answered, watching Shepard lean heavily on her forearm, getting into the Asari’s space under the pretense of relaxing, trying to feel nothing about everything that smile was promising, even as his insides squirmed. “She always does.”

Lawson huffed, and lounged back against the wall. There was something almost feline about her dangerous, controlled grace. Despite her practiced ease, her brow was still furrowed in displeasure as she watched Shepard’s rough, capable fingers go soft on a blue wrist. “You seem to know her well.”

Garrus dipped one shoulder in a shrug. “You don’t go through what we went through together without getting to know someone.”

Lawson hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

Garrus’ skin crawled at the implication in her tone. “You’re the one who knows everything about her.”

She tilted her head. It wasn’t a concession so much as a ceasefire. He watched tension dimple her jaw when Shepard let out a low chuckle in response to whatever her companion had told her, her eyes liquid with intent.

He shifted uncomfortably.

He’d never really seen Shepard flirt before.

With Liara she’d been earnest and effusive, almost reckless with her feelings, charging in headfirst despite everything against them. It had been like watching Shepard in a firefight: instinctual, brave, trusting in herself to get them both through it and in Liara to have her back.

This was different, but her stubborn confidence was the same.

Shepard fought for what she wanted.

“Do we have to stick around to watch this?” He asked.

It was a moment of weakness and he deserved the judgmental cock to Miranda’s eyebrow that she threw his way, just like he deserved every scar that inattention had ever bought him in the field.

He winced, as though she had actually shot him. “Fair enough,” he sighed and settled back against the wall next to her.

* * *

“Is there really no other way inside?” Shepard asked, straightening to stretch out he shoulders after having spent the morning hunched over building schematics. “You...” Shepard stopped abruptly, her head jerking to the side as though caught by a fisherman’s hook, small smirk toying at her lips. “No shit.”

“Commander?” Lawson prompted, which, in Miranda-Speak, meant she was royally pissed for having her on-the-go brief interrupted.

Shepard ignored this and waved her hand dismissively. “Let’s take five, come back to this with fresh heads.” She walked over to a lone woman seated at a table, the roll of her hips almost a saunter.

Garrus tilted his head. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but he might be imagining that. Noveria. The name was on the tip of his tongue.

Lawson let out a miffed scoff.

Garrus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Not a word, Vakarian,” she said, lifting her chin.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Then neither will I,” she countered.

Garrus nodded. Ceasefire still in effect, it seemed.

They both watched the little sting operation play out from a distance, a pantomime.

Watching Shepard broadcast her interest in Parasini (that was right, Parasini) so loudly, they could tell without hearing a single word.

Miranda was tapping her toes impatiently, as though trying to convey what a waste of time she thought this was from several yards away, making tiny displeased noises when Shepard reached out to touch Parasini’s elbow or knee.

It only succeeded in making Garrus feel like nails were dragging along the inside of his skull.

“You still think she is going to shake it off?” Lawson asked as Parasini tilted Shepard into a short kiss with a single finger on her chin and then walked away.

Garrus grunted. “I never mentioned how long it might take.”

Lawson’s eyes sparked and she opened her mouth to respond, but Shepard was already on her way back over.

“Old friend,” Shepard explained airily. “Where were we?”

* * *

The numbers swam in front of Garrus’ eyes, no matter how many times he blinked.

He shut his eyes and sank against the railing, hoping that he’d finally exhausted himself to the point he could collapse right here. And that his sleep would be dreamless.

No such luck.

Fully alert Garrus would appreciate the image of Sidonis in the pin of his scope, but late night, half asleep Garrus was more prone to guilt than revenge. The burning in his stomach just hurt instead of kept him going.

He groaned and hunched over as he waited for the waves of bile-like guilt and anger and shame to subside.

Once he was able to open his eyes without the world spinning, he stood and made his way to the mess hall, hoping that he could sweet talk his way into a full stomach, which might help him focus.

He stood, satisfied with the way he didn’t sway even a little bit.

He was getting old. He used to be able to go without sleep almost endlessly and now after a handful of sleepless nights he was near useless.

He walked right past the mess hall and continued to the elevator, heading instead to the contraband stash in the cargo bay that was the worst kept secret aboard the Normandy.

He had his suspicions that Shepard was the one that kept it stocked, if only for the fact that there was often something Turian friendly there.

The elevator opened for him and he stepped in, almost to run directly into someone else.

He reeled back, embarrassed that anyone caught him off guard like that and his hand went for a gun at his hip, only to find nothing there.

He indulged in a moment to berate himself for getting too comfortable aboard a Cerberus ship, just because it had the bones of what used to be home.

“Calm yourself,” the stranger said, holding out a hand. “I’m not a threat.”

He squinted at her wordlessly, unconvinced. An unarmed Asari was still a considerable weapon.

“And I’m not a stranger,” she continued, and he blinked again, straightening out of his defensive crouch.

In the burst of clarity the shock had given him, his heart beating fast and his senses sharpened, he recognized her. “It’s you.” Feros. The name was on the tip of his tongue.

She nodded. “I was just here to see Shepard.”

“Oh,” he said, his sleep-slow brain a half a beat behind. “ _Oh_.”

She looked away, as though embarrassed despite how forward she’d been with Shepard earlier that day. “I was on my way out.”

He moved out of her way and watched her head for the airlock.

He stepped into the elevator.

* * *

There was somebody already in the cargo bay when he entered, seated on a crate, cradling an unopened, unlabeled bottle in her hand.

She raised her head to look at him as he entered.

“Oh, Lawson,” he sputtered, caught out, and too tired to lie convincingly. “I was uh… just here to check the. Couplings?”

She rolled her eyes at his faltering excuse. “Spare me, I already know about the stash. Who do you think keeps it stocked?”

Garrus blinked slowly. “I kind of figured it was Shepard, actually. Keeping morale up.”

Miranda laughed at that. “Shepard doesn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. Even when it might benefit her to lie, she is honest to a fault.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’m the draconian minder, here to keep everyone on the straight and narrow?” She asked, arching one perfect eyebrow.

Garrus shrugged. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Just because I enforce the rules doesn’t mean I don’t understand the need to cut loose. This crew is handpicked, which means that, while they are the best, they are a group of hot headed, lone wolf, renegades.” She glanced over him, an assessing look. “Full offense.”

“Offense taken?” Garrus supplied.

“This provides a little harmless rebellion to get it out of their systems, so they don’t let it out in more destructive ways,” Miranda continued. “Makes them feel like they’re sticking it to the man so they can otherwise focus on the real job.”

“Well, as someone who reaps the benefits, I applaud your leadership strategy,” Garrus said and held his hand out for the bottle.

Miranda handed it to him with a real, though cautious, smile. “Don’t make me like you, Vakarian.”

“Is that an order?” He asked. “Because I feel I should warn you: I have been called a hot headed renegade, so no promises.”

“Let’s say it is,” she said, prim voice belied by her smirk. “Enjoy your drink,” she said, brushing past him.

* * *

Raised voices coming from Lawson’s office was nothing new. The crew learned early on to keep a safe distance whenever it started up after a couple gentle reminders from Jacob, posted outside with his arms crossed, that what was being shouted was often classified.

Garrus made to turn back to the battery, preferring to go hungry than have to listen to the two of them duke it out once again, but something stopped him in his tracks.

Curiosity. Yet another trait that had made him a poor fit for C-Sec.

“I was willing to let this go, waste of time that it is, as long as you kept it planetside, but now you’re bringing them aboard our ship? It’s a potential security breach.”

“It’s _my_ ship,” Shepard said.

“Then you are endangering _your_ crew and _your_ mission, Commander,” Lawson bit back. “How well do you know these… distractions?”

A scoff. “A shockingly polite word when you so clearly disapprove. Tell me, Lawson, what does it take to crack that professional veneer of yours?”

There was a tense pause before Lawson continued, tone icy. “Just keep it off the ship. The crew will talk.”

“Let them,” Shepard answered, voice uncharacteristically careless. “They already think _we’re_ fucking in any case.”

Garrus felt the silence that followed like acid on the back of his tongue.

“That was out of line,” Shepard continued after a moment, all the flippancy gone from her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It was,” Miranda continued, tone clipped, patently professional. “I realize I have no say in your personal life, but the instant it hinders your ability to command this crew, I will have to step in.”

“Understood,” Shepard said. “Thank you, Miranda.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” was the only acknowledgement Lawson gave. “Commander.”

The door slid open before Garrus had the time to do anything other than turn around, so his back was facing it.

He heard Shepard sigh behind him. “So you heard all of that?”

He turned back around, trying to seem surprised. She looked tired, as though the past few weeks were finally catching up to her. Hell, maybe even the past two years. “Shepard, I was just on my way to do some calibrations.”

She laughed, which seemed to take at least some of the age from her face. “Of course you were.”

“I could stand to blow off some steam instead,” he said hesitantly. “If you were up for it.”

She raised a single eyebrow at him and he felt hot humiliation and freezing horror rush through him in turns.

“I meant sparring,” he added hastily.

She laughed again, and her eyes were brighter than they had been moments before. Perhaps thoroughly embarrassing himself had been worth it just for that. “I’m sure you did,” she said with a cocky grin. “Come on Garrus, let’s dance.” She slapped his shoulder as she walked past, a hint of her confident stride back in her steps.

* * *

Garrus shifted as Shepard sank to the floor next to him.

She slid down against the wall, keeping her left leg straight as she put most of her weight on her right, as though Cerberus hadn't fixed her old injury.

She still did little things to favor her left side, like it still hurt, but he'd noticed that in a fight, when it came down to it, she moved as easily as if it had never been injured in the first place.

He wasn't sure if it was habitual or intentional. If her body remembered or if she was still grasping at who she was, aping her old mannerisms.

She still had plenty of scars, but all of them were new.

“I think my entire back is going to bruise,” he said.

She knocked her shoulder against his and straightened, barely an instant of contact. He shivered at the contrast of the heat of her skin and the utterly alien sensation of her sweat now evaporating on his skin. “It’s good for you. I should kick the entire crew’s ass sometime. It’s good for morale.”

“I take it you feel better?”

She grinned. “Sure do,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Shepard,” he said, rolling his shoulder. “How much pressure does it take to dislocate a Turian’s shoulder?”

“What is this, the academy?” She rolled her eyes but she was smiling wider now. “You’re fine. If I’d actually hurt you, you’d never say a word.”

She was right, but he exaggeratedly rubbed his shoulder to make a point.

She shook her head and leaned it back against the wall, expression smoothing out.

He could only watch it play across her face as the adrenaline high wore off and her thoughts began to creep back in.

“Did I change too much, when I came back? Or did I stay the same and everyone outgrew me?” She paused. “Two years is a long time.”

“You’re still the Shepard I know,” he said, his palms going cold with nerves. Comfort did not come naturally to him. The best method he'd come across was to remind Shepard who she was and let her do the rest, but this felt like the approach on Illium, like one wrong move might break her, or make her break him. “They thought you were dead. They just need time.”

“You came with me,” she said, and if he didn’t know better, Garrus would say she sounded accusatory. “What makes you different?”

His heart crawled into his throat and he thought for a moment he would have to explain himself, but he took a deep breath and remembered the unbearable tenderness with which Liara cupped Shepard’s jaw the other day, or Alenko’s tragic, soulful eyes, tracking her every motion whenever she was turned away from him.

Garrus wasn’t conceited enough to think he was the only one in love with Shepard.

Most of him was furious on her behalf, but he also wanted her to be able sleep that night.

“Liara, Wrex, Tali, even Alenko,” he started, his throat catching and voice thrumming on the last name. He coughed and continued. “They would all still do anything for you, but they have their own part of the galaxy to save, and I…” he trailed off, struggling to find a way to say _I lost everything I had worth fighting for on Omega and now you’re all I have left_ without feeling like his ribcage was being pried open. “Don’t.”

The look in her eye told him she heard everything he didn’t say. He had to look away before her knowing gaze tore the whole truth from his lungs, clearing his throat.

“Well Vakarian,” she said, her tone jokingly pompous. “The universe appreciates your service.” Then she smiled, and continued, muted and happy. “And I’m certainly glad you’re here.”

If Shepard loved the same way she fought, head first, high risk, high reward, then for Garrus it has always been like setting up a long shot: patient and precise. Watching their back from a safe distance.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Commander,” he responded.


End file.
